


it's a love story

by robpatFF



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robpatFF/pseuds/robpatFF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam has a fever and Zayn makes incredible soup. Or alternatively, that one schmoopy sick!fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a love story

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to coolbreeeze_ for finally breaking my writer's block with her lovely prompt about Liam being sick and needy and well, he's not much needy in this, but he is sick, so um. Yes. Thank you.

it’s hot, is the thing.

liam’s buried under blankets and pillows and he’s suffocating--jesus, why is it so hot--until he claws his way up and blinks at the sunlight beaming through the blinds.

“go back t’ sleep,” zayn says from next to him, and liam sees his little blonde streak peeking above the covers. “it’s still early.”

it’s too hot, is the thing.

liam can feel the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and making his shirt a bit damp and last time he checked it was october and not supposed to be this hot.

it’s _bloody hot_ , is what it is.

he tries to breathe but that hurts and he tries to move but that hurts and so liam lays back down on the bed and closes his eyes. he shifts around until the sheets are only pooling at his feet and presses up close next to zayn. his eyelids feel heavy even though he’s got them closed and his throat is maybe being sawed in half, he’s not quite sure.

so he presses closer to zayn and zayn’s not so hot, zayn is cool skin and breezy t-shirts in bed. so liam pushes and pushes until their legs are a tangled mess of hot and cold and warm and cool and he breathes in shaky and

“go back to sleep,” zayn mumbles again

so liam ignores the voice in his head that keeps telling him how hot it is and loses himself in fevered dreams. 

\-----

zayn’s by the window when liam wakes up, silhouette shadowed by the angle of the sun and just as sharp as the rest of him. liam thinks about going to him, like, moving or something, but he’s not quite sure his legs work as well as he remembers.

instead he watches as zayn’s edges soften up some, when he can tell that liam’s awake and suddenly there are cool fingers pushing at liam’s hair and on his forehead and pressed up close against his cheeks. 

“think you’ve got a fever,” he says and liam pushes up into the cool fingers. “feelin’ alright?”

“it’s hot,” liam tells him, just to feel the fingers press a little deeper and have zayn brush his hair back a little more. “you feel nice though.”

liam’s eyes are shut but he can still see zayn’s smile, clear as day. the way his lips spread and make his eyes bunch up. there are a few different smiles that zayn has but that one is liam’s favorite, out of all of them. he relaxes under zayn’s hands and times his breathing to match the steady _in and out and in and out_ that’s right up next to him.

“feel a bit sick,” liam admits. he wouldn’t to anyone other than zayn, maybe shouldn’t have since zayn huffs out a laugh, his fingers still gentle against liam’s flushed cheeks.

“figured,” zayn tells him. “shove over, babe.”

and so liam groans and shoves over and tries to figure out how the world is spinning while he’s just laying in bed. “what are you doing?”

“gonna take care of you,” zayn says. “obviously. shove over a bit more, i can’t fit.”

there’s a nose rubbing against liam’s neck. should be a bit gross, considering how liam feels like he’s sweating out of his clothes, but zayn doesn’t seem to mind. there are fingers ghosting over liam’s sides and a mouth pressed against his skin and legs intertwining with his own. 

“are you comfortable?” zayn asks him.

liam’s got elephants stomping in his head and an unsettled stomach and he’s melting, he swears he is, but it would be rude to opt out of a proper snuggle so he nods and doesn’t move.

he’s near drifted off when he hears zayn start to sing, something soft and melodic that makes liam force himself a bit more awake so he doesn’t miss it.

_settle down with me_

_cover me up_

_cuddle me in_

_lie down with me and_

_hold me in your arms_

“harry would have a fit if he heard you right now,” liam murmurs into his pillow. “you know how he gets about other people singing ed.”

“shut up and sleep,” zayn tells him. “and harry’s a brat anyway.”

“will you make me soup later?”

“do you mean will harry make you soup later?”

“you just called harry a brat.”

“ _liam_ ,” zayn says. “i will make you the best soup you’ve ever had if you just sleep for a bit, yeah?”

“can we--”

“sleep.”

\-----

this time liam wakes to the overwhelming smell of chicken, wafting through the thin flat walls and into the bedroom.

“hungry?”

“not really, no.”

“too bad,” zayn says. “called my mum up so i could make this for you.”

liam doesn’t call zayn out on the lie, instead sits up and leans back against the headboard. “okay,” he says. “let’s have it, then.”

the soup’s bland, but zayn’s hands steady the bowl in liam’s shaky grip and so he eats it, just to see the creases from a smile under zayn’s eyes. 

“good?”

“incredible.”

“you’re a shit liar, li.”

“did you really call your mum up?” liam asks.

“if harry counts as my mum, then yes.”

“i’m gonna tell him you called him a brat.”

“i’ll tell him myself.”

zayn climbs back in the bed, careful not to jostle liam too much as he settles. “need anything else?”

liam lets himself slide back down under the sheets, curling up so that his head is in zayn’s lap. “not really, no.”

“wanna go back to sleep?”

liam doesn’t want to sleep. he wants to be distracted from the soup sitting heavy in his belly and the pain behind his eyes. he wants zayn’s fingers slipping through his hair again--yes, like that, just like that--and zayn’s steady breathing and he wants this achey feeling to leave his chest and for the sun to stop being so bloody bright and

“want me to tell you a story?”

and yes, liam wants that too.

“what kind of story?”

liam’s whole body moves when zayn shrugs, biting his lip and looking down into liam’s face. “one that’ll make you feel better?”

and see, that’s not fair, because when zayn says things like that, when zayn _looks_ like that, liam already feels better. he can feel zayn’s uncertainty and concern all the way down to his toes, can feel it enough to send goosebumps down liam’s arms because the way zayn makes him feel is rather disgusting, if he’s being quite honest.

“tell me a story, then. go on.”

and liam is the only one who gets to see zayn like this, unsure and soft and thoughtful in the way he thinks for a second, trying to think of something good, something just right.

“once upon a time--”

“oh, really?”

“what’s wrong with--”

“nothing, nothing. once upon a time, go on.”

zayn huffs, shifts so his nails dig into liam’s scalp for a moment in retaliation. “yeah, so once upon a time, there was a little boy, you know? and he-- he used to want a lot of things.

he wanted to be a fireman for a while. then a librarian. then a teacher. he wanted to be a teacher more than anything. and so, he, like, he read a lot of books. all the time. his mum called him her little bookworm and the kids at school called him all sorts of things, but he just kept reading, you know?” zayn stops, looks down to make sure liam is still listening, smiling when he is, just the barest twitch in his lips. 

“and in between books, he’d sing. and he thought maybe he wanted to be a singer. so he sang all the time, like in the shower and stuff. quiet enough that no one could hear unless their ears were pressed right up against the door. because, like, he didn’t know if he was good or not. so he made sure no one could hear him, just in case.”

liam nudges zayn, turning so his face is pushed against his stomach, close as he can get. “don’t much like this story, to be honest. it sounds awful sad.”

“i was getting to the good part!” zayn argues. his cheeks are tinged pink though, barely there, but liam knows.

“get there faster, please.”

“okay, so _eventually_ , he meets another boy.”

“can his name be prince liam?”

“he meets prince liam. and even though prince liam is whiny and demanding and a bit rude, to be honest--”

“hey!”

“the boy still thinks he’s very lovely. and very nice. and quite handsome.”

liam hides a smile in zayn’s jumper, pushing into the cozy material even though he’s still burning up. he presses close and feels the vibrations from zayn’s voice all the way down to where he’s resting.

“and even though the boy hadn’t had many friends before, he thought he and prince liam could be friends, would be friends. maybe--maybe more than that. eventually. and so then the boy started wanting prince liam. more than anything. more than wanting to sing, even.”

and liam squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling in the smell of laundry detergent and soap and smoke. he feels zayn’s hands in his hair still, gentle and soft as ever, and liam breathes in steady and concentrates on zayn.

always on zayn, it seems.

“and is the boy happy now?” liam asks, his voice muffled in zayn’s jumper. he looks up, just to see zayn’s face, because he knows, of course he knows, but.

he looks up anyway, so he can see how zayn’s mouth curls up at the sides and he looks sleepy and rumpled and

well he’s liam’s, is the thing.

“are you feeling better?” zayn asks him, and liam nods, because zayn knows how to make him feel better, how to make _him_ better. “then yeah, the boy’s alright. he’s--yeah, he’s happy, li.”

liam nods again, pressing his face back into zayn’s jumper. “i’ll tell you a story when i wake up, alright? about a pretty boy who makes amazing soup for his sickly boyfriend.”

“he sounds like a real hero. i can’t wait to hear it. sleep now, though.”

“and i take back what i said about telling harry you called him a brat.”

“ _sleep._ ” 

and so liam sleeps. and he dreams of a pretty boy with a pretty voice and he wakes to one, too. 

\---


End file.
